


these, our bodies, possessed by light. (tell me we’ll never get used to it.)

by thychesters



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (Comic), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Oracle, F/M, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, and she is gonna get LAID, merry christmas have some dickbabs smut, what dick does: oh he said hi alright, what dick says: i'm gonna go say hi to my girlfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21869887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thychesters/pseuds/thychesters
Summary: someday, eventually, they'll wake up in the same bed, share coffee and bagels and little nothings over pillow talk. now, though, they'll take everything they can get, and he'll hold her as close as he can before she goes slipping away from him again.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	these, our bodies, possessed by light. (tell me we’ll never get used to it.)

**Author's Note:**

> icb the first dickbabs thing i post to ao3 is f*ckin porn, but also i can
> 
> shoutout to [lookforanewangle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookforanewangle) for encouraging my shenanigans, and uh, enjoy.

Nightwing’s supposed to be in Blüdhaven right now, technically. His initial plans had called for a quick round of patrol of his usual stomping grounds before crashing on the couch, but with Robin benched for the foreseeable future with the flu he’d offered to handle the Old Gotham district himself. On a cold night like tonight Batman could handle the Bowery on his own, and besides, it gave him an excuse to swing by the Clocktower and check on Oracle. Face-to-face interactions were more meaningful than a handful of quick late night texts or a comms. unit in his ear.

Besides, tumbling around the same rooftops on quiet nights lost their luster after the first two hours, and given their current track record he’s willing to bet Barbara’s not about to turn his company away. Hopefully, at least.

It’s been almost a solid two weeks since they’ve last seen one another, and only a few days since their last bout of rather sordid texts, so he can’t _quite_ blame the bite in the air for the spots of cold high on his cheeks.

Her eyes are alight when she spots him ducking in through the window, as if her system hasn’t already alerted her to his presence, and Dick meets the smirk with equal fervor as he reaches to cup her cheek.

How they went from exchanging a few quick jabs and catching up to playing tonsil hockey gets a little fuzzy.

The details as to how they ended up with her splayed across his lap is a little more so.

Dick’s thoughts are quickly derailed when Barbara cants her head back onto his shoulder, and he leans to eye the line of her throat, the dim light and blue-green glow from her screens cast across it in the corner of his eye. Stripped to the waist he shifts, chest pressed against the line of her back and legs nearly akimbo as she sits in his lap, their knees together and her palms on his thighs as he fingers her.

It’s a compromising position that leaves her fully exposed, and he has a back up plan just in case while he traces freckles and moles with his teeth, following them with his tongue.

He twists his fingers and watches the tiny muscle spasms in quiet fascination: the way her jaw works, the twitch of her lip and the flutter of eyelashes as she closes her eyes. Her brow furrows in concentration, the same way it does when she’s immersed in the manning the comms. lines or digging through forensic files their civilian counterparts have no business with. He presses the heel of his palm against her clit, and, not for the first time, marvels at the sensations she experiences as he glances down, watches her chest rise and his fingers slide in and out of the mess they’ve already made of themselves.

Barbara shifts and he grunts, her nails digging into his hip for a split second, his erection still in the confines of the lower half of his suit and against the small of her back, right beside her scar. He closes his eyes for a moment, teeth in his lip and he curls his fingers.

She makes a pleased sound as his free hand moves to trail up her side, sucking in a breath as it skirts her ribs. His palm comes to cup her breast while he continues to finger her, rolling a nipple beneath his thumb once, twice, and then her head leans back on his shoulder again, one of her hands coming to rest in his hair to tunnel through the strands. Blunt nails dig into his scalp and a low moan works its way out of the base of his throat. Dick mouths at the side of her neck, leaving no marks that will show though he desperately wants to.

They’re not supposed to, an agreement of theirs. No identifying marks, though that hasn’t stopped him from lavishing over her thighs, or the remnants of teeth marks at her breast or the trail of nails going down the length of his spine.

He shudders at the thought, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he twists his fingers again, thinks of the look on her face, last time, when he stuck them in his mouth and licked them clean, the look he’s sure was on his when she brought them to her lips instead. Dick curls his fingers with fervor, and elects to ignore the ache in his groin as he leaves an open mouthed kiss on the freckle at the corner of her jaw. He’s so hard it almost hurts, now.

“Dick,” she murmurs, and when he hums in response it’s the most the two have spoken in however long. His breath gathers at the jut in her collarbone, hot and damp, against the smattering of freckles he’s dragged his tongue across before, and when she makes that particular noise in the back of her throat, it’s everything he can do to not rut up against her.

Her fingers drag through his hair again and he groans, curling her fingers again just to hear her breathing hitch.

“Thought you were only coming over for dinner.”

“Not really hungry,” Dick says, though his chin digs into her shoulder with a half-formed lopsided grin, pinching her nipple while her chest raises with her arch of her back. His thumb works over her clit. “Well, maybe a little, but probably not for what you had in mind.”

Barbara huffs a laugh, short-lived as it is with the hand still fondling her breast. She’s close, now, he can almost feel it—can almost taste it, really, and the thought alone leaves another jolt rushing through him. It’s been a while, almost too long, really, and he mutters a _fuck_ into her collar, grinding into her back with abandon before he catches himself.

She just about keens, and he grinds up against her up, continuing his ministrations, and suddenly he thinks he’d like to swallow up that noise, now, have her cradled in his arms while they rock together. There’s time for that later, after, if they’re lucky. The thought alone is enough to have his blood sing. The damned suit has never been more uncomfortable, and not for the first time that night curses himself for not stripping entirely before he buried his fingers inside her. (He can hardly say he regrets his choices, though.)

“C’mon baby,” he gets out, teeth dragging along the shell of her ear. He pants in time with her, chasing every little sound she makes, every half-formed word and syllable, every quiet moan and broken off noise caught behind her teeth closing over her lip. “Wanna see—” He starts, but his focus is so keyed in elsewhere to form a solid sentence. He’s sure she doesn’t particularly mind, and he thumbs her clit in time with his strokes. “Wanna—”

Dick feels her orgasm before he hears it, the way she stills only minutely before her stomach muscles clench and she arches away from him with a low, drawn out cry and his fingers cease pinching her nipple to grab her waist to brace her.

Now, again, he wishes he could see her, hair fanned out along the pillow in a disarray, lower lip glossy and swollen from where he’s bitten it a few too many times with his own to match. He wants her nails dragging down the length of his back, wants to leave marks on her thighs she won’t feel but no on else will see. He wants to open his eyes to find her above him, back arched and head thrown back over her shoulders, a curtain of hair behind her as he fucks up into her, a litany of curses and little nothings that don’t mean anything but also mean everything.

He continues to work his fingers as she rides her high, slowly slipping out of her pussy before her hand come to circle his wrist to push it, overstimulated; he drags his fingers along her thigh, slowly, leaving thin trails behind.

It might as well be a lifetime as he waits for her to catch her breath, and he drops his knees as she shifts and he with her.

“Two seconds,” Barbara says in a breath once they have her settled in his lap again, this time with her facing him, flush creeping up along her chest and into her cheeks. Dick wants to nose at the junction where her collarbone meets. A thin layer of sweat mats her hair to her temple, and his lips part, a split second from reaching for hers, red and swollen from where she’s bitten it.

“Huh, and I thought I had a decent recovery time,” he murmurs back, hands closing over her waist. If he were to shift just so, he’d be pressed right up against her, almost into her. His dick twitches where it’s pressed uncomfortable against his crotch.

Barbara rolls her eyes, hands smoothing down his chest and pausing just before his waistline that leaves him with a stuttering breath he holds. She leans in closer, hair brushing his shoulder and chest against his. Her nipples are pebbled against him, and part of him wants to snake a hand between them, roll them again just for that noise she makes. She barely so much as breathes against his lip and holy shit, she’s trying to kill him. “Shut up.”

Dick _could_ say something smart like _yes ma’am_ or _you got it_ or something to the effect, but then she drags his lower lip through her teeth and all smart remarks take a seat on the back burner for a few minutes. He tilts his head for a better angle, welcomes her tongue into his mouth and traces his along it, leans into the palm cupping the side of his head, and groans, loudly, into her mouth as deft fingers work their way into the confines of his suit and skim along his erection.

He pulls away to hiss through his teeth, lifting his hips and maneuvering with her as she frees his cock. Screwing his eyes shut as she works him root to tip, he has to count backwards from ten once, then twice, and then forgets how numbers exist entirely when she cups his balls.

“Well shit,” he manages, fingers still digging into her hips. In return she laughs a little, which tells him yeah, okay, she’s had her two seconds of recovery then. If he has his way recovery’s going to be take a little longer than that, and she’s going to be panting and then screaming his name into his shoulder before biting it like she did last time.

“Someone’s eloquent,” she says, sliding her thumb over the slit, and his eyes almost roll back in his head behind his eyelids. She trails her fingers along his cock in a slow drag, along the vein before her grip tightens again, as do the muscles in his thighs.

He grunts. “Left my book of romantic poems in my other suit.”

“What a shame, I was looking forward to being wooed.”

His hand comes up to knot his fingers in her hair as she drags him into another kiss, grinding into her palm. This one is slow, less frenzied than their last, less an explosion of tension and the beginnings of rebuilding it. The suit sits uncomfortably around his thighs now.

“Given the circumstances, I’d like to think I’ve done some pretty successful woo—” They both freeze at the sudden chime, and Dick’s pretty sure his soul has left his body when the alert sounds again. Barbara casts him a furtive glance as she pulls away to lean for her headset, slipping into work mode while he throws his head back with a choked: “ _No_.”

“Oracle,” she says, and Dick has half a mind to remind her that she might sound like business on the outside, but she still has Nightwing’s dick in her hand. He rocks his hips to prove his point, even though his ears strain for his own earpiece he’d discarded with the top half of his suit on instinct. For his efforts, he’s rewarded with a palm slapped over his mouth and the challenging look in her eye that dares him to lick it. Not even ten minutes ago he was commenting on eating her out, wanted to leave her with the image of his tongue against her clit, two fingers buried inside her and moaning into her pussy as she pulls on his hair. He doubts her palms is anything in comparison.

He watches her expression darken, and picks up traces of what sounds like a familiar voice filtering through where she hadn’t put the earpiece on properly in her haste, offering updates on Tim’s current state and other chatter. Dick groans against her hand, eyes roving toward the ceiling and then back.

The chatter goes on for all of maybe thirty seconds, and he chokes off a yelp when she gives his cock a solid squeeze.

“Spoiler,” Barbara cuts in, and Dick keeps his gaze trained on the furrow returned to her brow. Stephanie’s moniker has never been more apt. He almost has to commend her for it. Almost, but not quite. “Is anyone dead or dying?” As they both await the negative her hand slides from his mouth, fingertips trailing his lips. He almost manages to suck her index and middle fingers into his mouth before she pulls them away, nails tracing his jaw and then one of his own pebbled nipples. He groans, and only at the last second hopes Stephanie can’t hear him. “Good, appreciate the updates, but I’m going back to bed.”

He watches her hang up, that small flicker of guilt for being short. (It isn’t the first time, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Not that he’s in any position to complain, really.) He’ll feel guilty, too, later, once the blood flow has circulated back to his brain and the tip of his cock isn’t almost purple, isn’t almost buried inside Babs where she’s hot and wet, and he has to rein back those thoughts before he cums across her knuckles.

“Bed, huh?” he says as she settles again, fingers gliding along his jaw and column of his throat before curling over his shoulder to brace herself.

Barbara grins, lip between her teeth only briefly, and something flashes through her eyes that leaves him damn near grinding up in her again. “Now who said anything about sleeping?”

“Ms. Gordon,” he murmurs in a breath against the Cupid’s Bow of her lip. She reaches down to tug at the remnants of his damned suit, and together they make quick work of leaving it discarded on the floor in a haphazard pile of spandex and kevlar. If he’s a little overeager neither one of them mention it, nor the sweat that had plastered to his calves. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were trying to seduce me.”

“Depends.” She comes just shy of kissing him again, the both of them flush together, and it’s his turn to furrow his brow and work his jaw. “Is it working?”

Dick moves to kiss her once, slowly, deeply, hands dropping to her legs and awaiting her soft sound of approval before he goes to stand, lifts her with him, arms slung over his shoulders as they exchange another lazy kiss or two, or three. This, too, he’s more than happy with, is not above admitting that a few of his better mornings have consisted in little more than exchanging a few slow kisses with little heat and only the simmering of promises behind them, messy hair and bleary eyes and the occasional click of teeth.

This isn’t one of those lazy mornings, though.

“Guess there’s really only way to find out.” He adjusts his hold on her, and has to grunt again when the movement leaves his cock pressed up against her pussy, and of course she’s still wet. His jaw clenches, and he clears his throat, one hand gripping her ass. “I, uh, heard mention of a bedroom?”

Barbara hums, dragging her fingers through his hair. “Guess there’s only one way to find out,” she parrots.

She kisses him, again, and then rests her forehead against his.

“Guess so,” he murmurs, navigating through living quarters he’s all too familiar with, and she laughs.


End file.
